Chapter 19

类别:文学名著 作者:夏洛蒂·勃朗特 本章:Chapter 19

    tranquil enougered it, and ted snugly enoug t: or rat, tied doriped inguisood on table; stle black book, like a prayer-book, by t of ttered to  old  immediately on my entrance: it appeared so finish a paragraph.

    I stood on tting at a distance from t noo trouble one’s calm. S -brim partially s I could see, as s, t it range one. It looked all broled out from beneate band  once,  gaze.

    “ell, and you  your fortune told?” sures.

    “I don’t care about it, mot I ougo warn you, I h.”

    “It’s like your impudence to say so: I expected it of you; I  in your step as you crossed threshold.”

    “Did you? You’ve a quick ear.”

    “I have; and a quick eye and a quick brain.”

    “You need trade.”

    “I do; especially o deal  you tremble?”

    “I’m not cold.”

    “ you turn pale?”

    “I am not sick.”

    “ you consult my art?”

    “I’m not silly.”

    t and bandage; s a s black pipe, and lig began to smoke. ive, s body, took teadily at tely—“You are cold; you are sick; and you are silly.”

    “Prove it,” I rejoined.

    “I act strikes t is in you. You are sick; because t of feelings, t and test given to man, keeps far a beckon it to approacir one step to meet it s you.”

    S  black pipe to h vigour.

    “You mig to almost any one  in a great house.”

    “I mig to almost any one: but  be true of almost any one?”

    “In my circumstances.”

    “Yes; just so, in your circumstances: but find me another precisely placed as you are.”

    “It o find you thousands.”

    “You could scarcely find me one. If you kne, you are peculiarly situated: very near . terials are all prepared; ts a movement to combine t apart; let ts.”

    “I don’t understand enigmas. I never could guess a riddle in my life.”

    “If you wiso speak more plainly, show me your palm.”

    “And I must cross it h silver, I suppose?”

    “to be sure.”

    I gave  it into an old stocking-foot  of , and ied it round and returned it, sold me to  my o t  touc.

    “It is too fine,” said s; almost  lines: besides, iny is not ten there.”

    “I believe you,” said I.

    “No,” sinued, “it is in t t up your head.”

    “Ao reality,” I said, as I obeyed o put some faitly.”

    I knelt irred t a ripple of ligurbed coal: t, only to deeper s illumined.

    “I  feelings you came to me to-nig ts are busy in your  during all t in yonder room ting before you like sern: just as little sympatic communion passing bet tual substance.”

    “I feel tired often, sleepy sometimes, but seldom sad.”

    “t o buoy you up and please you ure?”

    “Not I. tmost I o save money enoug of my earnings to set up a sctle ed by myself.”

    “A mean nutriment for t to exist on: and sitting in t  (you see I know your s )—”

    “You s.”

    “Ao speak trutance hem, Mrs. Poole—”

    I started to my feet whe name.

    “You  I; “ter all, then!”

    “Don’t be alarmed,” continued trange being; “s; any one may repose confidence in , as I ting in t , do you t your future sc interest in any of t one face you study? one figure  least curiosity?”

    “I like to observe all the figures.”

    “But do you never single one from t—or it may be, two?”

    “I do frequently; elling a tale: it amuses me to chem.”

    “ tale do you like best to hear?”

    “O mucso end in tastrophe—marriage.”

    “And do you like t monotonous theme?”

    “Positively, I don’t care about it: it is noto me.”

    “Noto you? y and endos of rank and fortune, sits and smiles in tleman you—”

    “I w?”

    “You know—and perhink well of.”

    “I don’t knolemen erco table, and stately, and middle-aged, and ot certainly t liberty to be ts of o consider transaction of any moment to me.”

    “You don’t knolemen  exc of ter of the house!”

    “ at home.”

    “A profound remark! A most ingenious quibble!  to Millcote to-nigo-morro circumstance exclude  of your acquaintance— blot   of existence?”

    “No; but I can scarcely see roduced.”

    “I alking of ladies smiling in tlemen; and of late so many smiles o Mr. Rocer’s eyes t t?”

    “Mr. Rocer  to enjoy ty of s.”

    “No question about : but , of all tales told  matrimony, Mr. Rocer  lively and t continuous?”

    “tener quickens tongue of a narrator.” I said to myself to trange talk, voice, manner, ime ed sentence came from er anotill I got involved in a ification; and  ting for cs aking record of every pulse.

    “Eagerness of a listener!” repeated ser  by to ting lips t took suc in task of communicating; and Mr. Rocer o receive and looked so grateful for time given iced this?”

    “Grateful! I cannot remember detecting gratitude in his face.”

    “Detecting! You  did you detect, if not gratitude?”

    I said nothing.

    “You ?—and, looking forward, you have seen him married, and beheld his bride happy?”

    “ exactly. Your c fault sometimes.”

    “ then?”

    “Never mind: I came o inquire, not to confess. Is it kno Mr. Rocer is to be married?”

    “Yes; and to tiful Miss Ingram.”

    “Sly?”

    “Appearances  t conclusion: and, no doubt (ty t s cising out of you, you seem to question it), tively  love sucty, accomplis  least er estate eligible to t degree; told  point about an or to look out: if anot-roll,—he’s dished—”

    “But, mot come to er’s fortune: I came to old me not.”

    “Your fortune is yet doubtful:  contradicted anoted you a measure of  I kno before I came  carefully on one side for you. I sa depends on yourself to stretc your ake it up: but he rug.”

    “Don’t keep me long; the fire scorches me.”

    I knelt. S stoop to only gazed, leaning back in tering,—

    “t looks soft and full of feeling; it smiles at my jargon: it is susceptible; impression follos clear sp ceases to smile, it is sad; an unconscious lassitude  turns from me; it  suffer furtiny; it seems to deny, by a mocking glance, truto disoy and cs pride and reserve only confirm me in my opinion. the eye is favourable.

    “As to t delig times in laug is disposed to impart all t t  on muc experiences. Mobile and flexible, it ended to be compressed in ternal silence of solitude: it is a mouten, and ion for its interlocutor. t feature too is propitious.

    “I see no enemy to a fortunate issue but in t broo say,—‘I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I reasure born raneous delig a price I cannot afford to give.’ ts firm and  let t a judgment sill  , and ting vote in every decision. Strong  I s still small voice s tates of conscience.’

    “ell said, foreion sed. I  plans I deem ttended to t one dreg of sected; and I do not  sacrifice, sorroion—suc my taste. I er, not to bligo earn gratitude, not to ears of blood—no, nor of brine: my  must be in smiles, in endearments, in s— t e delirium. I so protract t ad infinitum; but I dare not. So far I ed as I in; but furt try me beyond my strengt’.”

    ill? t, ure, and all o me as my oongue. I got up, but did not go. I looked; I stirred t s and  o depart. ted retc: roused no for discoveries, I at once noticed t   rically turned; a broad ring flastle finger, and stooping for it, and sa turned from me—on trary, t he head advanced.

    “ell, Jane, do you knohe familiar voice.

    “Only take off then—”

    “But tring is in a knot—help me.”

    “Break it, sir.”

    “ter stepped out of his disguise.

    “Norange idea!”

    “But , e you think so?”

    “it have managed well.”

    “But not h you?”

    “You did not act ter of a gipsy h me.”

    “ cer did I act? My own?”

    “No; some unaccountable one. In s, I believe you rying to dra—or in; you alking nonsense to make me talk nonsense. It is scarcely fair, sir.”

    “Do you forgive me, Jane?”

    “I cannot tell till I  it all over. If, on reflection, I find I o no great absurdity, I sry to forgive you; but it  right.”

    “O—very careful, very sensible.”

    I reflected, and t, on t ; but, indeed, I  from tervieed. I kneune-tellers did not express ted y to conceal ures. But my mind  living enigma, t mystery of mysteries, as I considered  of Mr. Rocer.

    “ell,” said  are you musing about?  does t grave smile signify?”

    “onder and self-congratulation, sir. I o retire now, I suppose?”

    “No; stay a moment; and tell me he drawing-room yonder are doing.”

    “Discussing the gipsy, I daresay.”

    “Sit do me  t me.”

    “I ter not stay long, sir; it must be near eleven o’clock. Oer, t a stranger  this morning?”

    “A stranger!—no; ed no one; is he gone?”

    “No;  ake ty of installing ill you returned.”

    “the devil he did! Did he give his name?”

    “ Indies; from Spanisohink.”

    Mr. Rocer anding near me; aken my o lead me to a c a convulsive grip; tly a spasm caugh.

    “Mason!—t Indies!” one one migomaton to enounce its single  Indies!” erated; and  over times, groervals of speaking, o know w he was doing.

    “Do you feel ill, sir?” I inquired.

    “Jane, I’ve got a blo a blow, Jane!” aggered.

    “Oh, lean on me, sir.”

    “Jane, you offered me your s me  now.”

    “Yes, sir, yes; and my arm.”

    do beside ; gazing on me, at time,  troubled and dreary look.

    “My little friend!” said  island rouble, and danger, and ions removed from me.”

    “Can I o serve you.”

    “Jane, if aid is ed, I’ll seek it at your .”

    “tell me o do,—I’ll try, at least, to do it.”

    “Fetc supper tell me if Mason is  he is doing.”

    I . I found all ty in t supper, as Mr. Rocer  seated at table,—taken  es and glasses in ter and conversation ed. Mr. Mason stood near talking to Colonel and Mrs. Dent, and appeared as merry as any of tc I aking a liberty, I daresay), and I returned to the library.

    Mr. Rocer’s extreme pallor ern. ook the glass from my hand.

    “o your rant spirit!” ents and returned it to me. “ are they doing, Jane?”

    “Laugalking, sir.”

    “t look grave and mysterious, as if trange?”

    “Not at all: ts and gaiety.”

    “And Mason?”

    “oo.”

    “If all t at me, w would you do, Jane?”

    “turn t of the room, sir, if I could.”

    if I o go to t me coldly, and hem?”

    “I rat, sir: I saying h you.”

    “to comfort me?”

    “Yes, sir, to comfort you, as well as I could.”

    “And if to me?”

    “I, probably, s t it.”

    “then, you could dare censure for my sake?”

    “I could dare it for the sake of any friend who deserved my adherence; as you, I am sure, do.”

    “Go back noo tep quietly up to Mason, and w Mr. Rocer is come and wiso see hen leave me.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    I did . tared at me as I passed straig Mr. Mason, delivered to t upstairs.

    At a late er I ime, I ors repair to tinguiser’s voice, and his is your room.”

    ones set my  at ease. I was soon asleep.


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